Twist of Fate
by melles
Summary: Summary: This story is how Neal stepped into the lives of Peter and El. More or less. And how life can change within seconds. This is the prequel for my fic "Life maybe simple, but it ain't easy", so I recommend to read that story first in case you haven't so far. Warnings: Deals with child loss. So you've been warned! Written in Peter's POV. Spoilers through all seasons.
1. Chapter 1

**TWIST OF FATE**

A/N: As always, a HUGE "THANK YOU" to my amazing beta **Rainey13**! Your help is very much welcomed and appreciated! The song is called "Dust in the wind" from Kansas

_I close my eyes, only for a moment and the moment's gone  
All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity_

_Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind_

_Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea  
All we do, crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see_

_Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind_

_Don't hang on, nothing lasts forever, but the earth and sky  
It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy_

_Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind_

_Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind_

**Chapter 1**__

Numb. That's how he felt. Dazed and confused. Petrified. The world around him had lost all meaning for him. Within a few hours his life had taken a turn, leaving the feeling that he had lost the ground underneath his feet. He was alone.

And no one and nothing could change that. Helpless. For days he hadn't been able to do anything, his feelings went up and down like a roller coaster. Just when he thought he had caught himself, a gesture, a word, a memory, an image was able to get him off balance again. He didn't know what was up and down, couldn't say what day it was today. On the other hand it didn't bother him either. Forget. He just wanted to forget. He just wanted to completely banish the worst day of his life from his mind. Pretend as if nothing had happened. Probably he was going to wake up and realize that all of this had just been a nightmare. It had to be, otherwise he would go nuts. A life without him... he couldn't imagine this.

Him...no, no this wasn't right. He has a name. Had. His heart seemed to miss a beat when a picture appeared in front of his eyes. The picture of the ba- of Timothy as he had been lying pale and motionless in a crib at the pediatric ICU section of the hospital. His small face had been peaceful yet so ghostly. The sounds emanating from the machines in the stuffed room filled with other little critical patients had made him almost mad, because as much as he had tried to ignore them, they told him that the other babies were still alive, while his son was dead.

A single tear ran down his cheek while his gaze went straight into the distance. He had been crying so much during the last five days that he was convinced that there no more tears left. But apparently he had been wrong. How was that possible? How could Timothy be dead? He still knew exactly how El and he had left the house on Friday morning. El was going to visit her gynecologist for a routine check up and he was heading to the office. He remembered making plans for the evening. First dinner, then maybe a little stroll in the city in order to anticipate the well deserved weekend. None of this had happened. Instead, one phone call had changed his life entirely. He hadn't been able to breathe. The phone had fallen out of his hand, but he hadn't been aware of this fact. All of a sudden, his partner had been there, obviously alerted by the strange behavior. Everything else after that was a blur. Later in the hospital, he hadn't noticed much of what had been going on around him while sitting at the side of El's bed, holding her hand, talking to her.

The fragments of that night only gradually came back into his mind and he struggled to keep his emotions under control. The urge to let the tears flow increased, but he would not admit it. He wanted to be strong for El. But he also knew that he couldn't keep his composure any longer. He was helpless. For days he struggled with his feelings, needed sedatives to get through the day and sleeping pills so that he could sleep at least for a few hours during the night.

He sniffed and closed his eyes. Immediately he found himself back in the hospital. He quickly opened his eyes and blinked. With a trembling hand he wiped his face, trying to strip the memories away with the tears. But to no avail. Like his efforts in the hospital. There he had begged the doctors to save Timothy's life. Hell, he'd have given his own life for his son. One doctor had tried to explain to him that there wasn't anything they could do. Then he became angry, had been yelling towards the doctor and the nurses and all the others present in the room. They were all wrong. Timothy would wake up and be healthy.

How long he had actually stayed in the ICU, he couldn't tell. Again the doctor - he really couldn't recall his name - had been the one who had approached him, touched him with a sad look in his eyes. With this gesture, his resistance was broken and he had clung with all his strength to the doctor, begged him to help his son, no matter how. To do something. The doctor had said that only one thing was left to do - to say goodbye to him and then go back to his wife. Deep inside Peter had known that the doctor was right, but he couldn't admit it. He couldn't let go. Not today. Not this way. But all arguing with himself, with the doctor and with whoever was in charge up there hadn't been successful. Again and again he had looked at his son, still hoping for something to happen. Yes, also praying. But he was powerless. Paralyzed. Like in a trance he had finally nodded. With the help of one of the nurses he had returned to El's room. She had been sleeping slightly, due to the sedatives the doctors had given her earlier. But she had been aware enough to recognize him and asked for their son. Silently he had handed her the tiny bundle and then had climbed on her bed, had stroked her pale cheeks, her hair. Then he had also closed his eyes.

* * *

_4 months earlier…  
Februray 2002_

"This looks fantastic, hon."

Peter turned around and a big grin appeared on his face. Seeing his wife always made him happy. But seeing his pregnant wife made him very happy. With a cloth he wiped his hands clean and looked at the wall. "Thanks," he nodded. "Only two walls left."

"I've made you some hot cocoa."

"Oh, you're an angel. Just what I need right now." With three steps he closed the distance between them. The plastic film on the floor to prevent stains from the wall paint rustled under his feet. It was a rainy Saturday morning and therefore Peter had decided to start painting the walls in the nursery. They both had agreed to keep the color as neutral as possible and had actually voted for yellow.

El stood in the doorway, a steaming mug in her hands. "Trish called and asked if I would like to have lunch with her," she said and seemed undecided.

"That sounds good," Peter said and took the mug and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm gonna finish up here so why don't you accept her invitation?"

"Really?"

"Of course! Have a nice afternoon, do some girlie-talk, that kind of stuff." Peter knew he had acted over-cautious the last 4 months and that El hated it. Ever since El had told him that she was pregnant, he had tried to avoid any stress and practically had carried her in his hands. At first he had been shocked and terrified about the idea of being a father. Having children hadn't been a topic. Sure, they had talked about it, but since they both had full time jobs, they felt it wouldn't be fair to the child. So it really had been a surprise and he had needed some time to realize this hadn't been a dream at all. Soon after he had changed his opinion and now he was thrilled. He really looked forward to become a Dad. And looking at El, he knew his wife felt the same. He was convinced that she would be a fantastic mother. "Nothing can beat an afternoon with the best friend to gossip about men."

"We don't gossip about men," El laughed, then added, "Okay, maybe a little bit."

"See?" Peter grinned and took a sip, savoring the rich flavor. Right now, his life was perfect. The job at the FBI was developing nicely and he liked working with the White Collar division. The salary had allowed them to buy the house in Brooklyn and now…he was going to be a father. Although he was a realist and always relied on facts, he still needed to remind himself from time to time about the pregnancy. Some days it felt like a dream and he feared to wake up one day to find out everything was about to dissolve in thin air.

"Maybe Robert wants to come along and help you?"

Peter chuckled. Trisha's husband wasn't exactly a handyman. "He'll probably fall off the ladder, but otherwise I guess it'll be fun."

El smiled. "I'm gonna give them a call then." With that she went away.

Half an hour later, the door bell rang and El went to answer it. Soon after she and Trisha and Robert came to the nursery. "Hon? We're leaving," El said.

"Hey, Peter," Robert greeted him and held up a six pack of beer before he put it down.

"Hi Rob," Peter waved with the paintbrush. He stepped forward and kissed El, careful not to dirty her with the wall paint. "Have fun."

"You too," she said, smiling and wiping away a spot of paint from his forehead.

The dark haired Robert watched the two women leave. "El looks good," he said after they both were alone. He still stood in the doorway and made no attempt to step in or help Peter at all. Instead he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"She's good," Peter confirmed. "So far everything is fine," he said proudly, but still felt unsure with certain topics so he was glad that he could talk with Robert. "She gained about 6 pounds and the morning sickness is gone. Thank God." His eyes wandered around the room in order to find spots he might have missed.

"Oh yeah," Robert nodded and smiled mischievously. "But soon the back aches will start." Trisha and he had three children so he knew what he was talking about. "And the swollen legs. Oh, and later she will start to complain about feeling like a beached whale." Obviously he enjoyed his story too much.

Peter squinted his eyes. "Right now I'm not sure if I want to know about such things."

"She's due in July, right?"

"Yeah," Peter nodded proudly.

"So you have still 5 months left to get used to such things, my friend. And believe me, you will remember my words."

"Soooo," Trisha rubbed her hands in excitement, "tell me about Peter. Is he still edgy?"

El put her glass down. They were downtown Manhattan and had just placed their orders. "Actually I'm surprised that he had agreed to our meeting. Since day one he's acting like I'm delicate. Which I'm not."

"I know that." The blonde short haired woman laughed. "I can still remember his…shocked face when he told us about the baby."

"Yeah, well, to his defense I have to say that I was shocked as well." She shook her head in amusement as she thought of the visit back then. "No, shocked isn't the right phrase. I was…unprepared. But yes, he WAS shocked. For a moment there I thought he was suffering a heart attack."

Trisha chuckled. "I wished I could have seen his face when you told him the first time. But he's doing great, as far as I can tell. He seems composed now."

"He is. In fact, his analytical mind set in a short time after and now we are the proud owners of every book available in New York regarding pregnancy," El said and rolled her eyes. She played with the napkin and a smile appeared on her face. "I think I don't have to mention that he already has packed my suitcase? And the lists and plans he made for almost every conceivable situation?"

"I'm sure he has," Trisha nodded and sighed. "You know, you may be annoyed by his behavior, but let me tell you this - Peter's one of those men who tend to overreact, but he has a heart of gold and would do anything for you." She looked at El before she added, "Despite the fact that he always forgets your wedding anniversary."

"Oh yes, he keeps forgetting that. But I don't care. I know he isn't exactly a spellbinder, but he surely is…he has that certain something." Talking about Peter still created those butterflies in her stomach, although right now she couldn't tell if those butterflies in fact were the little one growing inside her. Involuntary she placed a hand on her belly and smiled. Words couldn't describe the emotions she felt, no matter how hard she tried. Then she started to laugh, tears forming in her eyes. "He told my gynecologist that the first ultrasound picture of the baby would look like an avocado."

Trisha shook her head in amusement. "That's so Peter."

* * *

After a rather busy weekend that had him occupied with painting, Peter was thrilled to get to work on Monday morning. As much as he enjoyed the quality time with his lovely wife, he loved his work, too. That and…sports. Baseball to be more specific. He loved the game and often thought of his childhood when he used to play ball with his father. After he had to quit his dream of becoming a baseball player because he blew his rotator cuff, he joined the FBI. This was his profession now and he was damn good at it. Sitting at his desk in the bullpen, Peter shuffled through his case files.

An agent went by, waving with a file. "Here's another one for you, Peter."

Grabbing the file, Peter's face lit up because he was thrilled with each new case. He liked to be challenged like in treasure hunts and solving puzzles. Maybe this was another reason why he ended up at the White Collar unit.

His partner on the other side of his table, rolled his eyes and said, "Stop hoarding all the new cases, Burke."

Peter chuckled and started to read. "Bond forgery sent over from NYPD. Two phony Atlantic Incorporated bonds in six months. Come on. You want it?" Reaching over his desk, he offered the file to his partner.

Unimpressed the man replied, "Two in half a year?"

Peter nodded and was already engrossed by what he had read so far. "Mm-hm. Atlantics have never been forged."

"I'll pass."

"All right," Peter said and studied the copy of the forged bond in the file closely. "Wow, this is quality work."

Still not interested, his partner answered, "So is my kid's drawing on the fridge. It's all yours."

"Okay." Sometimes Peter asked himself why his partner was working in this unit at all. But right now he didn't care. Because he had found a new challenge. "I think this guy has a future."

* * *

_March 2002_

Coming home this evening reminded Peter that he still had some work to do. Since the painting of the nursery had gone well, they had decided to remodel the living room too. Which meant that many items had been packed away, but so far not everything had been placed back, since Peter had been occupied with his latest case. Today he had found some interesting leads on the case and wanted to go over it tonight after dinner. He put down the cardboard box filled with the files. His coworkers had come up with a nickname for the suspect. James Bonds. Not that he liked it, but as long as it served the case he could live with it. "Honey? I'm home!" Looking around, he noticed that the door to the patio wasn't completely closed. A smile appeared on his face. Grabbing a bottle of beer from the refrigerator in the kitchen, he stepped to the window and looked outside. Shaking his head, he watched his wife play with the puppy they had bought two weeks ago. El had been in her mother hen mode and had insisted on getting the yellow Labrador puppy. Nothing he had said had changed her mind and he had to surrender. One thing he had learned over the last months was this - never argue with a pregnant woman! For a few minutes he just watched both of them smiling and was happy. More than that. He was the luckiest man on earth.

Going back to the living room, he got rid of his jacket, the tie and the button-down shirt, so that he only was wearing his white t-shirt. After that he opened one box and took out a file. Totally absorbed in reading, he didn't see El and Satchmo entering the house. She had named the puppy because she liked Jazz and Louis Armstrong (again, never argue with a pregnant woman). Ever since he started to work with the White Collar unit, he loved to share his information with El. She had a wonderful way to tell him her point of view. Therefore he said without hesitation, "This guy is good."

El stepped towards him, with little Satchmo following her, "Honey, are we gonna put this away or is that our new coffee table?" She carried a small box.

Recognizing what she implied, Peter answered, "Oh, I'm sorry." Quickly he took the box and put it aside.

"What about this one getting under your skin?" El asked obviously sensing his efforts to solve the case.

Peter looked at her. "You really wanna hear?"

"Well, of course. Always." Her voice held no accusation, instead she seemed truly interested.

"All right." Grinning, he approached her, only to be stopped by El who just lectured the puppy. The dog had found one of the files lying on the ground and sniffled at it. Then he started to lick on the top sheet.

"Satchmo!"

Peter kneeled down and tried to save the folder. "You're tampering with federal evidence."

Looking at the file, El said, "Wow, that's a forgery?"

That was the go-ahead for Peter, who instantly explained, "The seal, the signature, the security strip. See, most forgers are only experts at one aspect. The man who forged this bond was capable of bigger things. He can do it all."

"Well, so can you," El said and leaned forward. Her voice was playful.

"Mm."

Only seconds later El placed a kiss on his lips, but immediately frowned and made a wry face. "Mm."

Peter knew why. For four weeks he had been growing a beard, just because he thought it was time for a change. But his wife wasn't pleased at all and mentioned this on every possible occasion. What had he learned? Never argue with a pregnant woman. So he finally obeyed. He would never fight with her."Loose the 'stache?"

Nodding, she replied, "Yeah. Sorry, Magnum. I still love you."

Peter knew when he had lost a battle. The mustache would be shaved off first thing tomorrow morning."I love you too."

* * *

_June 2002_

The day had started like any other morning he had spent with his wife, eating breakfast and making plans. El had told him that she was going to see her gynecologist for a routine check-up. They had only four weeks left on the pregnancy and even if Peter would never admit it, he was counting each day until he would be able to welcome their child. After that appointment they would meet at lunch.

Right now he was sitting at his desk working on "James Bonds". He knew that he was addicted and the case got him hooked. The more he looked into it, the more it became clear to him that whoever was behind all this, wasn't acting out of greed or for money. No, it seemed that the man looked forward to the challenge. And Peter suddenly realized that this was one thing they had in common. They both loved the challenge. So far, no weapons had been involved, nobody had been hurt physically. It was strange for him to think that, but he was impressed by this behavior.

He was startled by a phone call.

A phone call that would change his life.

Seeing the caller ID, his face lit up. "Hey, hon! Is your appointment already over?" he asked without waiting for her to greet him. There was no answer and Peter frowned. Had he misjudged the number? Quickly he checked the display once more. "El? Are you there?" His heart seemed to skip a beat when he heard a sob. Immediately he sat upright. "Has something happened? El?! Talk to me!"

"H-hon?" Her voice sounded weak and hoarse and was almost a whisper.

"El? You're frightening me! What's up?" He could feel his pulse raising.

"C-could you-" She was interrupted and Peter could hear an unknown voice.

"Sir? Mr. Burke?"

"Yes, yes. This is Peter Burke. Who are you? What's up with my wife?"

"Mr. Burke, this is Loretta. I'm a receptionist with Dr. Waterson. I'm afraid there is a problem and I would suggest that you come here as soon as possible."

There was a problem with El? Realization hit him real hard and he felt a lump forming in his throat and he had to swallow a few times before he could respond. "W-what problem? The baby…?"

"Sir, it really would be better if we talk about it in person rather than on the phone."

There was some rustling again and Peter could hear El's voice. "Please, Peter…," she cried quietly.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. Standing up, still holding the phone in his hand, he looked around and searched for his boss, but he couldn't find him. His head started to spin and his mind felt like it was clouded. He thought he could hear the phone clattering down to the ground, but he wasn't sure. All of a sudden his partner was by his side and guided him outside.

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**TWIST OF FATE**

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! You make my day. This chapter is...well...a bit heartbreaking, so get your handkerchiefs out of your pockets.**

**Chapter 2**

"Sorry. Come again. What do you mean 'a Caesarean birth isn't recommended'"? Peter was furious and clueless at the same time. He paced on the floor and tried to keep his voice low. El was in the room, waiting for him, but before he went back in, he needed some answers. So he turned and faced Dr. Waterson who was standing next to him. They had talked about the complications indicating that the baby wasn't alive anymore. There was no movement and Dr. Waterson hadn't been able to detect a heartbeat via ultrasound. But Peter hadn't been able to pay full attention since his thoughts were with Elizabeth and the baby. He shook his head. He needed to concentrate. "There must be a mistake! Elizabeth was fine this morning. She...there were no problems at all!"

Dr. Waterson acted sympathetic and she repeated her statement. "Mr. Burke, please, calm down. As far as we concerned, there's no immediate health risk to your wife and labor will usually begin spontaneously after two weeks, so it's possible to wait and birth the fetal rem-"

Peter held up his index finger and silenced the doctor with this gesture. "Don't." He shook his head once more. Right now he couldn't deal with that thought, so he chose not bring up the topic. Putting his hands on his hips, he bent his head down and closed his eyes for moment in order to try to control his feelings. He had to be strong for El. Taking deep breaths he weighted his options and looked up. "What are…," his voice cracked and he had to clear his throat, "…what do you suggest?"

Stepping into the room a few minutes later, Peter's heart broke when he saw the motionless figure lying on the exam table. He carefully approached his obviously sleeping wife. They had given her a sedative to calm her down and shut down the blinds a bit, but she wasn't completely unaware. Someone had covered her with a blanket. Her eyes opened up a bit when he touched her hand. Peter could tell that she had been crying, seeing her puffy eyes. He caressed her back, moving his hand in small circles. The lump on his throat as back again and for a few seconds it seemed that he had lost his voice when he opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. He managed a weak smile and stroked El's cheek with his free hand. "Hon? We…we need to go to the hospital," he whispered softly not wanting to startle her.

A single tear rolled down her cheek. She looked at him, not saying a word. She just stared at him. Silently pleading with him to do something, but she didn't seem coherent enough to actually formulate the words. Instead she clutched at his hand and didn't let go. More tears formed in her eyes.

Peter wiped them away with his thumb. It was hard looking at her, because he fought back the tears himself. God, those beautiful yet anxious big blue eyes. He felt goose bumps on his arms and shivered. "It's time to go," he said. "The paramedics are already waiting." His heart felt so heavy and he couldn't suppress a sigh. "It's time to go, hon."

This felt so surreal.

Yet he was by El's side, stroking her temple, whispering encouraging words to her while she was in pain. The doctors had given her medication through IV's to start contractions. She was crying and whimpering and he felt helpless. He never had felt so helpless before in his life. Nevertheless he didn't want to show El how he really felt, so he forced himself to put on a friendly face even if he wasn't sure he was successful with that. "You're doing great, hon," he said to her, caressing her hand. Inside he wanted to scream at this ridiculous scene. He wanted to scream out his anger, wanted to strike something, someone with his fists. He was terrified and he didn't know how he should face reality and didn't know what to do. For one of the few times in his adult life he didn't know what to do.

The whole clinical staff was trying to act as normal as possible but Peter could tell that they were sad as well. Although he was sure that they had seen such scenarios before, it was also clear that all of them were well aware of the tragedy that took place in front of their eyes.

Maybe this was a mistake? Or a bad dream? What if Dr. Waterson had been wrong? Surely El and the baby were alright. They had to be alright. El had been to all the preventive exams, everything was okay. The baby was healthy and so was El. They had been cautious. He had been reading all those books. He had made sure that El was lacking nothing and had insisted that she had been resting enough and all that other stuff. She and the baby had been alright! They had been alright this morning. How could this have happened at all? Had he done something wrong? Maybe he should have insisted that El had stayed at home more and cut back her work at the art gallery. _Dammit._

"Don't forget to breathe nice and slowly," one of the doctors said.

Peter's mind snapped back into reality and he cleared his throat. "You're doing great," he said once more. "It'll be over soon."

How much time had passed Peter couldn't tell. But suddenly the delivery room went silent and he could feel how the atmosphere changed. A cold shiver rand down his spine and he looked at El who was crying. She was so vulnerable right now, so delicate. And he didn't know what to do to ease her pain. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths. The anger was back, but was replaced by deep grief as he saw one of the nurses carrying the baby away. They didn't know the gender since they wanted it to be a surprise. Now all he could think of was his child which wasn't crying at all. The silence was almost unbearable.

El didn't stop crying, despite the fact that she was very exhausted but she refused to calm down when one of the doctors approached her. "Where are you taking my baby?" she asked over and over again, her head spinning around, looking for the baby. "Where is it? I want my baby!"

"Hon, please," Peter tried to soothe her. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" she shot back, tears in her eyes. "I want my baby! Peter! Please. I just want my baby back."

"They are doing everything they can." Even to him his words were hollow. "I'm gonna talk to the doctor, okay?" He had absolutely no idea how to manage this, but he had to do something. He couldn't give up now. Maybe there was still a small chance; now that the child was born the doctors could treat it better. Turning around, he looked at the doctor and rose stiffly. Taking a few steps he had closed the distance between them. "Where did you take the baby?" He had been so focused on El that he didn't notice that the baby wasn't there anymore.

A nurse came back and went to the doctor, talking quietly to him.

Next, the doctor turned towards Peter, taking him by the arm and led them to a private corner. Talking to him quietly, he tried to explain what was going on. "I'm afraid there's nothing we can do," he said.

"But," Peter croaked, "you have to do something. There must be something you can do!" he insisted. He didn't care if he sounded desperate. Hell, he WAS desperate. He would give everything to save the newborn's life.

"I'm truly sorry Mr. Burke, but-"

"No! No. No. NO. Don't you dare to give up right now. For heaven's sake! There must be something you can do!" Shaking his head, he pointed to the doctor. "You...," he had to swallow, "...you can't give up now."

"Mr. Burke," the doctor said, his consternation was clearly written on his face, "please calm down."

"I'm not gonna calm down," he answered furiously, but still he managed to keep his voice low so that El couldn't hear him. "You are all wrong! Why aren't you helping the baby?!"

"You're upset. That's completely understandable, but I would like to suggest that you take something to calm your nerves."

"No, I'm not gonna take some pills," Peter growled and grew more agitated with each second that passed. "I insist that you keep working on the baby. Dammit!"

"Sir...please...if you don't calm down, your wife gets more upset than she already is," the doctor tried to sound logical. "I know it's very hard for both of you and again, I'm truly sorry. But you're not helping her, if you're upset yourself. Try to take deep breaths, control yourself." Glancing over to where El was, he sighed. "I would recommend that she'll get a light sedative."

Not liking the thought, Peter hesitated for a moment following the doctor's view. It broke his heart seeing El in pain and so confused. After a few seconds, he closed his eyes and then nodded his agreement. After that he went back to El, tucking a strand of hair away from her sweaty forehead. With a handkerchief he gently dabbed away the many tears. While he talked to her, a nurse injected something to El's IV line and soon after, he could feel her relaxing.

The doctor seemed to relax, too. "We need to make a few more exams and then we will bring her to a private room, Mr. Burke. Do you want to wait outside?"

Peter shook his head. "What I want is to see my," he paused, gulping hard, "our child. Where did you take it? I don't even know its gender!"

"I'll show you the way."

Entering the pediatric ICU section was the hardest thing he had done so far. Knowing what would await him made it almost unbearable to deal with the situation. The room was filled with all sorts of medical stuff, machines were beeping constantly. He could see 6 incubators all occupied with tiny little infants fighting for their lives. The doctor led him to another incubator, but this one wasn't closed. For a moment it seemed impossible for Peter to get near it and he stopped. He could feel his heart heavily pumping, beating against his chest. His mouth was dry.

The man closed the curtain so that they had at least a bit of privacy. Pointing to a recliner, he said, "If you want to sit down-"

Shaking his head, Peter slowly went to the incubator, still afraid to touch the pale, motionless baby as if touching it would break it. The baby was covered with a blanket, which was tucked under its chin and on first glance you couldn't be sure if it was only sleeping. He startled as he felt a hand on his arm and looked at the mournful face of the doctor. In an instant, his whole world fell apart and without even wanting it, he reached for the man and hugged him. "Please," he mumbled, "please do something. Anything." Tears fell down his cheeks but he didn't care. Still he hoped that the baby would stir, would start crying and everything would be okay. But nothing happened.

"There's only one thing left to do," the doctor said quietly and started to rub Peter's back in order to soothe the mourning man. "Say goodbye to him and then you should go back to your wife, Mr. Burke. She needs you. We will take care of him. I'll make sure that he's in good hands. I promise."

He. Now he knew. A boy. His son. Involuntary he began to shiver although he wasn't freezing. His whole body ached and he felt exhausted. Licking his dry lips he let go of the man and took a step back, searching for a handkerchief in his pockets. The doctor offered him one and Peter thankfully accepted it, wiping his face. "No," he managed to say. Seeing the confused look at his opponents face, Peter cleared his throat. "I-I don't want others to...I mean, I want to hold him."

"Of course," the man nodded. "I'll call a nurse so that she can dress him and you can wait outside. I'll let you know when-"

Again, Peter cut him off. "No. No. I won't leave him here alone." He shook his head. "I'll do it. I'll dress him." After a short pause, he added, "It's the least I can do for him."

"Are you sure? I don't want to offend you, Mr. Burke. But...," he stopped and was apparently searching for the right words, but then he seemed to understand. "Okay, " he finally nodded. "I'll get you something to dress him in. I'll be right back." Slipping through the curtain, he left Peter behind.

Peter couldn't tear his eyes apart from the ba- from their son. The nurses had cleaned him up and even seeing him at such a close range, one could think he was just sleeping. They had agreed on the name Timothy James and looking at him, he could see so much resemblance with El. The dark hair, the nose. Sighing Peter finally stepped close to him and reached out with a shaky hand. Surprisingly Timothy didn't feel cold but perhaps that was due to the fact that he lay in the incubator and he had been born recently. His skin was soft and Peter let his big fingers trace the outlines of his son's little face. A sob escaped Peter's lips and he turned away for a second. Even though he knew that it was time to let go, he couldn't. This wasn't fair. He wasn't a very religious man, but right now he sent a prayer up to heaven or whoever was responsible up there.

It was then when the doctor entered again and handed him a stack of clothes. "I have to go. If you need any help, just let one of the nurses know, okay?"

"Is there...any chance I can bring him to my wife? She wants to see him." The thought of it let him once again shiver slightly. He had no idea how El would actually react. But she had demanded to see the baby and he wasn't willing to refuse her wish.

"You can put him in one of those mobile cribs. I'll arrange that your wife will be moved to a room next to this."

"Thank you."

~ ~ ~

If he had thought that entering the pediatric ICU section was the hardest thing, he now learned that he had been clearly wrong. Stepping into Elizabeth's room was much harder. It felt like he couldn't breathe anymore. His chest was tight, his heart broken. To imagine how Elizabeth was handling this was almost too much to bear, but she had the right to see her son. Without making too much noise he opened the door a bit further so that the nurse could wheel in the crib. After that she gave him a sympathetic look and went away. The silence in the room stood in contrast to the noisy pediatric ICU and Peter needed some time to adjust. He couldn't think straight right now, but he knew one thing. He had to be strong for El. She depended on him. She trusted him.

Somehow she must have felt his presence because she opened her eyes but didn't immediately focus on him. It was like her mind was fogged, and it certainly was. Almost inaudibly, she whispered, "Peter?"

Hearing her weak voice, Peter took a deep breath. "Yeah, hon?"

Instead of answering verbally, she reached out towards him, tears welling up in her eyes.

Without hesitation, Peter was by her side, taking her hand, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. "Everything will be alright. Please don't cry," he said but didn't sound convincing at all.

"Where's my baby? What happened? Is everything okay?"

Peter closed his eyes. "He's...," he started, but then his voice cracked, "...I'm so sorry, El."

"H-he? A boy?" she looked up to him and Peter thought he could see her smiling briefly.

"Yes," Peter nodded sadly, "a boy. A beautiful boy. He looks just like you."

"Where is he?"

"He's right there, hon."

"I want to see him. Hold him." She tried to sit up, but failed.

"Wait, wait. Let me help you," Peter said and grabbed the remote control for the head-rest. After he lifted it up, he pushed the pillow a bit under her back all the while being careful with her IV. "Is it okay that way? Are you comfortable?"

"It's okay," she replied silently, but couldn't hide a wince as she moved.

After handing her the baby, he backed away and simply watched her cradling the infant. El's lips moved but he couldn't hear a sound until he bend forward. She kept whispering the boy's name while at the same time the tears ran down her cheeks. Looking at their son and then at El, Peter made a decision and carefully climbed onto the bed, trying not to disturb her. Caressing her cheeks he studied her sorrowful face and realized she wasn't comfortable at all. He let out a sigh when he felt her weight against his chest, knowing that she needed the contact. But in spite of everything she seemed composed. When he closed his eyes, he could pretend that everything was alright. For a moment they were the family he looked forward to since El had told him about her pregnancy. For a moment nothing else mattered.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

**TWIST OF FATE**

A/N: This is the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed so far. Your thoughts and comments are really appreciated! Peter's father William and the rest of his family are made up by me.

**Chapter 3**

William Burke was an impressive man. He always had stood tall, had never backed down. Life hadn't been easy and it clearly showed in the wrinkles on his face, but he was proud of every single one. Being a hard worker for his entire life, his knees ached a bit as well as his back, but he didn't complain.

He had been watching Peter closely yesterday during the funeral and he hadn't been pleased at all. He knew his son by heart and the fact that he was sitting alone outside on the patio and not with his wife confirmed William's impressions of yesterday. Gently he pushed the door open and stepped outside. He also mourned the death of his grandson he had wished for for years and the loss was incredibly sad, but now he wanted to be there for Peter and his wife.

Taking one last glance back over his shoulder towards the living room where the rest of the family was gathered together, William Burke convinced himself that everything was fine. Of course that was a contradiction in terms, because nothing was fine in the Burke household at all, but he wanted to make sure that his presence wasn't needed inside at the moment. His wife Lucy sat next to his daughter-in-law, speaking quietly with the heartbroken Elizabeth. Emily, his daughter, was talking with his brother and sister-in law, the Mitchells.

He calmly stepped up to Peter and looked down at him. The man was only a shadow of himself which was understandable, of course. "Hey Peter," he said quietly and avoided laying a hand on his shoulder because he didn't want to scare him. "May I join you?" he asked, pointing to the chair next to Peter.

Peter in fact was a little startled and tried to hide it, but failed miserably. Hearing his father's voice, he turned his head in that direction, but didn't look at him directly. Although it was obvious that he wasn't in the mood for a conversation he nodded slightly, but didn't move otherwise.

"Thank you," William smiled slightly and sat down slowly. The white-haired man looked down at his calloused hands while he thought of what to say. "I guess it's useless to ask how you're doing," he began the conversation, because it wasn't sure that Peter would start on his own. "But I ask you anyway. We are there for you, no matter what day and time..."

Peter preferred to continue avoiding eye contact, because he couldn't bear the sad faces of the people he had met in the last days. Trying to maintain his composure, he bit his lower lip before he pressed out a harsh, "Nothing is in order." He closed his eyes, lowered his head and breathed in as deep as possible and out. "Nothing."

William nodded slowly and skidded forward a little on his chair so he could easily lay a hand on his son's shoulder. "I can't imagine what you are experiencing right now, but nevertheless I'm asking you...do you want to talk about it?"

The initial response of Peter was shaking his head, but somehow he knew that he wouldn't get away with this. Suddenly the tears came to his eyes and he buried his face in his hands. "He can't be dead," he sobbed and repeated the words several times. "This is all a mistake, right?"

"No," William whispered softly, and had to swallow himself. "I wish I could tell you that. I really do," he continued, placing his hand on Peter's thigh. "There was nothing you could have done."

Unconsciously, Peter cupped his left hand with his right hand, while holding the wedding ring between thumb and middle finger. It took some time before he finally said, "I don't know what to do."

"Don't keep persuading yourself that it was your fault. This is very, very important Peter. Nothing is worse than telling yourself such a stupidity. And then talk about it... no matter how much or how little. This is easily said, I know...but it helps, trust me. Don't lock yourself out...you're not alone in your grief, son."

"I feel so lost."

"You're not alone Peter. You have your family, you have El. You have your friends who will always be there for you...You're hardly alone. And Timothy will always be there as long as you live," he said softly, pointing to Peter's heart."Now you have to take care of El, do you hear?"

At the mention of her name fresh tears formed in his eyes, but unlike before, he didn't cover his face. "B-but I can't, Dad. I don't know what to do. And that scares me. I don't know what to do."

"At the moment, perhaps, but otherwise it was never a problem for you, Peter. If one of us knows what to do, it's you. Your wife needs you now. You have to be there for her. She depends on you. Don't disappoint her. And when you help her, you'll help yourself, too." William didn't want Peter to slip into a depression. That wasn't an option, so he forced his son to think about the situation. "You can't give up. You never have. Think of your injury, when you blew your rotator cuff. You were devastated at that time. Your dream was to play Baseball as a professional; unfortunately it wasn't meant to be. But you pulled through it. One door closed, another one opened. I know it's not going to be easy, but all I'm asking for is that you'll try once more. Can you do that for me?"

It took some time for Peter to reply, but then he nodded. "Yeah, I can try." He wiped his face with the handkerchief his father had offered him.

"Good," William nodded, satisfied with the small partial victory. He rose with some difficulty due to his aching knees. But still his posture was impressive; he had the same height as Peter and broad shoulders. "You can reach me anytime Peter, no matter how late it is. We are all here for you, okay? You are not alone." He let the words sink in, before he asked, "How about if we go in? Your mom and I can heat something up and I don't want to hear anything about my cooking skills, right?" He tried to cheer up the mood. "You have to eat something. With a full stomach, everything will be easier, even if it's just a tiny bit." He was well aware that Peter and El hadn't eaten properly in days and both of them were taking sedatives.

Peter rose too and swayed a bit. "I'm not hungry."

Reaching out for him, William said, "And yet you should eat something. Mainly because of the drugs in your system."

"Maybe...a little bit of soup?" he suggested, because he wasn't in the mood to argue with his father.

"That's all I'm asking for," William nodded. "Then let's go inside."

* * *

_1 year later_

_June 2003_

Just like any other day, Peter was working at the White Collar bureau. The only difference was that his desk wasn't at the bullpen anymore.

A news channel was airing on TV and the female voice of the journalist could be heard. _"…Lord of Wall Street Vincent Adler has disappeared. And with him hundreds of millions of dollars of his clients' money. A preliminary investigation indicates this investment firm may have been built on a giant house of cards. Securities regulators now claim Adler never traded any shares for client accounts. If true, Adler's disappearance could prove to be the brilliant exit strategy for one of the greatest financial frauds of our time."_

An agent shook his head while he continued watching. "Holy cow. You believe it?" he said and had his eyes still fixed on the screen.

_"When we return, we'll…"_

"Who'd have figured?" he asked no one in particular.

Peter walked past the desks and hearing the question, he asked in return, "Nobody smelled this coming?" He stopped and watched the news channel.

An Afro-American man pointed at the TV. "This guy took thousands of people for their life savings, including charities." He held out his hand. "Clinton Jones."

Peter shook hands with the agent.

"Word around here is you're putting together a special white collar task force," Jones said.

"I am," Peter answered and made a gesture which meant that Jones should come with him.

Jones followed him to the next floor and entered the office. "I've been only here a few months. But I was wondering if there were spots open, if I could get a shot."

"Are you the one who put the Dutchman on our radar?" Peter wanted to know, because he believed he was familiar with Jones' face.

"Yes, sir. I studied a profile like his at Quantico."

"Well, I can't promise anything. It is a long list. Agents with more seniority, you know how it is." He was busy unpacking the contents of the several boxes. It had been only days since his promotion and he hadn't finished his decoration task for his new office yet. He reached into the box again and pulled out a green sucker.

Jones grinned and pointed at it. "That's not the same sucker you got from James Bonds last year, is it?"

Looking at his counterpart, Peter frowned because he hadn't suspected that anyone knew about this particular sucker.

Shrugging his shoulders, Jones explained, "People talk."

"Nobody gets why I'm still holding on to this." He twisted the sucker between his fingers while he looked at it.

"Unfinished business." Jones nodded and then turned to leave. "I get it."

Stunned, Peter looked after the man. He was already impressed by his attitude and ability of quick processing and he certainly would take a look into Jones' personnel file later this afternoon. But right now, he had a meeting with El and even if he didn't like the reason for it, he also turned to leave. There was another bit of unfinished business waiting for him.

* * *

Standing in front of the small tombstone still felt…unreal. No matter how many times both of them had been here before. Peter clasped El's hand after she had put down some flowers. Nobody spoke while they both stood quietly at the grave and looked at the engraved letters. Finally he said, "I can't believe that already one year has passed."

Elizabeth leaned on him. "Me neither."

A soft breeze played with El's long hair and tousled Peter's. It was a beautiful day, with white clouds on the blue sky and pleasant temperatures. They remained silent for a few minutes, just holding each other in a tight embrace, lost in thoughts and dealing with the grief that still nagged inside them. Luckily they had found a way to compensate. If there was one thing resulting from the tragedy, it was the fact that their bond had tightened since then.

The last 12 months had been full of ups and downs. Thankfully the downs had been outnumbered by the ups. One of the ups was the decision from Elizabeth to start her own business Burke Premiere Events, which had developed nicely in the last months. Peter was glad that she had found something that she really loved. But he knew that their marriage had also been close to a break-up once or twice. After the funeral, things between them had gone south. Peter's father had attempted mediation, and later El's father, the psychiatrist, had tried as well. They decided to try a time-out with El going home for a few weeks. While she had stayed with her parents, Peter had stayed in Brooklyn with Satchmo and buried himself with work in order to distract. Coming home each day without El welcoming him had been hard and he realized how much he loved and missed her. He had called her after the first week, begging her to come home, but she had refused his wish, telling him that she wasn't ready yet. Respecting her decision, but not understanding it completely, all he could do was to wait and work late hours at the bureau. It was then that he made some progress with the bond forgery case and looking back now, he knew this case had helped him through some lonely nights. And also, it had helped him to stay sane. Others may have tried to solve their problems by drinking. His addiction was called James Bonds.

* * *

_September 2004_

Almost 2 years into the chase of James Bonds, the team had one of the usual meetings in the conference room to swap ideas and gather new information about the still ongoing case. They had come up with a name of their suspect sometime last year and now they were discussing their latest results.

Peter stood in front of a big bulletin board, stuffed with all sorts of lists and photos. "Before returning to New York, Caffrey popped up in Denmark and France. He's not afraid to cross borders."

"He definitely does his homework," Jones added. "We flagged his aliases at all points of entry. I mean, we get a hit, we throw up roadblocks."

"No, he never uses the same ID twice. Tell me something I haven't heard." He looked desperate. His gut told him that they were missing something important. "What about you? Agent…?"

Uncertain what to do, a young female agent stood up and looked at him. "Berrigan."

"You're on the run. How do I catch you?" Peter tried to get into their suspect's brain, but unlike before, he hadn't succeeded so far. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes would find the right clue.

"Stake out my girlfriend? Caffrey has one, right?" Agent Berrigan offered.

Shaking his head, Peter said, "We think they split up."

"We know where she is."

That answer got him thinking. "Does she know we're on to her?"

"No. We've never had enough on her to bring her in," Jones answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"And he hasn't gone anywhere near her." Peter looked at the board with all the information they had gathered so far regarding Neal Caffrey. "Hang on." An idea formed. "It took us months to catch her and she never stays in the same place for more than a week. She's hiding from him." A grin appeared on his face when he realized something. "He doesn't know where she is."

Diana smiled. This was going to get better and better.

* * *

_March 2005_

Outside the storage facility where they knew Neal Caffrey would met with his girlfriend Kate Moreau, Peter let his eyes wander around. It was essential for the case that from now on, no mistakes would be made. He watched as Jones approached the metal door and took a deep breath. For almost 3 years he had been trying to arrest the ambitious young man, who had conned his way all around the world.

Jones nodded towards him, before kicking open the door and shouted, "FBI! Hands on your head!"

Following close behind, Peter entered the storage unit.

Showing no resistance, Neal obliged and did what he'd been told.

Peter stepped beside him. He had seen Caffrey on various surveillance photos, but seeing the con man in person was something he really had longed for. He looked so incredibly young, so much younger than on the photos. They had even met once before, where Caffrey had tricked him and gave him that famous green sucker, but at that time Peter hadn't known. Nevertheless he didn't feel disgraced. No. He felt great. Because seeing the man, he was reminded once again, that justice had won. The feeling was fantastic and he smiled slightly.

Neal studied him as well and said, "Agent Burke."

Peter nodded proudly. "Neal Caffrey. You're under arrest."

"I know," Caffrey answered without apparent resentment and offered his hand.

This movement caused the armed FBI to point their weapons on the potential dangerous man.

What Caffrey said next, surprised all of them. "Thank you."

Peter frowned. That weren't the words one had expected from a recently arrested man.

Neal must have sensed the confusion of the FBI agent, because he said, "I never would've found her without you."

Accepting Neal's hand and shaking it, Peter replied, "It's my pleasure."

Just in that moment, Jones stepped beside them and in one smooth movement he slapped handcuffs around Neal's wrist.

Not upset at all, Neal said, "So you guys were all in that municipal van out front. It's gotta be uncomfortable." In fact he seemed to enjoy the banter.

That comment caused a grin from Jones. "It doesn't smell too good either," he confirmed and then lead Neal away.

Throwing one last glance back to Kate, Neal obeyed and went with Jones.

Peter just stood there, satisfied and enjoying his victory. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out the green sucker which he popped into his mouth. A smile appeared on his face. He had mastered the latest challenge. One door closed. Another opened. Tomorrow he would start concentrating on solving the Dutchman case and the challenge would start all over again.

* * *

To celebrate his victory Peter had decided to surprise Elizabeth. So he went home earlier and was now working around in the kitchen. He was preparing his famous pot roast and smiled fondly while he took a sip from the beer. So far everything was perfect. He was just about to set the table when he heard someone entering the house through the front door. Only seconds later he could hear the clicks of high heels.

"What are you doing here?" Elizabeth asked when she entered the kitchen, her confusion clearly shown on her face.

"And a good evening to you, too," Peter replied, grinning. He stepped forward to kiss her on the cheek.

El was still stunned. "Good evening," she said automatically and embraced her husband. "Pot roast?"

"Yep. The one and only."

"What did you do?"

"Are you insulting me that I did something wrong?" he asked in return, but he could see in her face that she just made fun of him.

"Why else would you cook?"

"Because we have something to celebrate?"

"And what could that be?"

Peter held her at arms length and smiled. "Today we arrested Neal Caffrey."

"Really? Wow. That's great!" She sounded relieved and leant forward. "I'm so happy for you." Quickly she gave him another kiss. "At least now I don't have to compete with him anymore like the last three years."

"Hon, I know, " Peter said well aware of her implications. "It's been a hell of a ride for both of us and I do know that I overstepped the border quite a few times when I spent more time at the office than with you at home." His words were honest and he looked at Elizabeth. "I'm sorry for that."

Taking a deep breath, El stepped back and nodded. "This goes both ways. I worked a lot too, trying to establish Burke Premiere Events. Quite successfully, I may add," she smiled slightly. "But now I guess it's time to slow down a bit. We've worked so hard…but we didn't live. Do you understand what I mean?"

Peter thought about what she had said for a moment and nodded. "Yeah, we-," he stopped and looked at the oven. Still 30 minutes to go. "Why don't we sit on the couch?"

Snuggled against each other, with Peter leaning on the back of the couch, they sat in silence for a few moments. Peter had laid his arms around El and held one of her hands in his own, their fingers intertwined. El's head rested against his shoulder.

"I actually can't remember when we sat together like this the last time," El said quietly. "So much has happened within the last three years."

"It's been indeed too long since we did something like this," Peter admitted and savored the moment with his eyes closed. Inhaling her scent, he began to relax. In the first months after the stillbirth touching each other was…complicated, awkward at times. He still wondered sometimes how they had managed to stay together though. Often relationships broke up after such incomprehensible tragedies. He had tried to understand what had happened, searching the internet for plausible causes of infant death. But in the end he had to accept that there were so many reasons. So much that could go wrong. He had to learn that he wasn't able to control anything as much as he had wanted to. They had never talked about trying to conceive another baby but deep inside he knew that he couldn't bear the thought of losing that one, too. Even if the chances were slim that they would have to endure the same thing again. He of all people knew that there were statistics that confirmed this.

But he had also seen what it had done to El. She had been close to a nervous breakdown. The yearly anniversary and the holidays were the hardest. And it was the feeling of being helpless that had scared him the most. He hated being helpless. He always had been the one who pushed forward, the one who liked to lead, the one who had the responsibility. Like he did on the job. But this wasn't like his job. This was his private life and he had often thought of his lover's vow where he had promised El to stay at her side, no matter what. This promise had been hard to keep. Especially at times when he was on the edge of giving up. But his unconditional love for El had been stronger than anything else. And right now he realized that he needed to do something.

Shifting his weight a bit, he cleared his throat. "What about vacation?"

"What?" It was clear that El hadn't expected this. She turned around so that she could face him.

"Yeah, well…with Caffrey arrested, I could use a break. And so do you. You always wanted to go to Greece, right?"

"Yes, I've said that I wanted to visit Athens and the Acropolis sometime, but-"

"Then let's do it," Peter smiled. "Why not?"

"Because," she said, but then fell silent. "What about Satch?"

"I'm afraid he can't come with us, but I think Robert and Trisha would love to do the dog sitting."

"But," she started once more, but this time she didn't finish her objection. Instead she turned around again and played with his fingers, lost in thoughts. "It would be really nice to go to Athens," she finally said. This time she sounded confident.

"Alright," Peter nodded. "Sounds like a plan." He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "I love you, hon."

Touched by his gesture, El turned around and this time she didn't just look him in the eyes, but also lean forward to kiss him as well. They only interrupted when they were in need of air. She smiled. "I love you too hon."

The romantic mood was interrupted by the ringing of the alarm clock from the oven. Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. "Perfect timing, I would say."

"Oh it is. I'm starving", El replied mischievously, but didn't let him go. "Are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely. I set the clock like they said on the recipe, I even-"

She slapped him on the shoulder. "Silly. About the vacation?"

Of course he had known what she had been referring to, but he couldn't resist teasing her a bit. "Of course I am! First thing tomorrow I will talk to Hughes and then we can go to the travel agency. How does this sound to you?"

"It sounds absolutely perfect. Thanks hon."

"For what?" he asked a bit stunned.

"For being there for me. As simple as that."

"I just wish I could have done more," he said ruefully.

Elizabeth shook her head. "You did nothing wrong. I know I have been rejecting you many times and was unfair to you. We both…needed time to heal. A bit. Although things will never be the same."

"No, they won't," he agreed. He thought of a quote from Rose Kennedy. "_It has been said 'time heals all wounds'. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it's never gone."_Both women were right about that.

**END**


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